The Gypsy Boy
by New Heart
Summary: the beginning of a beautiful friendship
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my little cousin Sophia who has also been bitten by the writing bug. :)

I do not own any of these characters, but I do love them dearly.

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Gypsy Boy

The great courtyard of Kippernium castle bubbled with anticipation. Bright banners flew from every turret. Townsfolk and merchants mingled among knights and ladies, carefully leaving open a large area near the castle gates. A small wooden platform had been built to afford the best possible seats for the King and Queen. Noisy chatter filled the air as great and small alike eagerly discussed the upcoming extravaganza. Working her way though the crowd towards the royal family was a noble-looking woman with a high collar and a very white face. Her progress was being slowed noticeably by the young girl beside her who kept pulling at the collar of her fancy dress and staring at all the excitement around her.

It was clear a great deal of trouble had gone into preparing the child for this special occasion. A long skirt covered scrapped knees that she had acquired the day before while tree climbing. Her face and hands had been freshly scrubbed, but dirt from this morning's mud pies still lingered under her fingernails. An attempt to force a comb through her tangled mass of red curls had produced many tears. In the end her mane had been declared completely unmanageable and then tamed as much as possible by tying it back at the base of her neck.

Upon reaching the dais with her young charge the lady curtsied and said demurely, "Your majesties." Glancing at the girl beside her, she said pointedly, "Jane."

Jane made a face up at her mother then curtsied and said to the little boy standing beside his parents, "Happy Birthday, Prince Cuthbert."

The boy gave Jane a smug look then stuck his tongue out at her.

"Why Cuthbert, that was not very kind," the queen said in her soft, melodious voice. She picked up the brown haired boy and held him on her lap. "I am sorry Jane, but after all he is only two."

When the queen turned away, Jane crossed her eyes at the prince and was quickly rewarded with a swat on the arm from her mother.

"His behavior is excusable," she whispered. "However you are five…"

"Five and a half," the girl muttered under her breath.

"…and ought to know better."

Jane lowered her head with a frown, watching out of the corner of her eye while the young prince triumphed over her from his mother's lap. With a tug on the string in her hand, Jane pulled forward her ever-present companion. He had been a gift for her third birthday and had never left her side since. He had rolled along with his mistress on every adventure, been buried in the dirt, perched high in trees, listened faithfully to her whispered secrets, and held tight each night in her sleeping arms. The years of wear were beginning to show. Where once his green paint had glowed brilliantly it was now faded and peeling. One of his four wheels was badly bent during a hurried escape down a flight of steps. Yet despite his ragged appearance, Jane still thought him to be the most wonderful toy ever made and she refused to go anywhere without him, her beloved dragon.

With a sudden surge of music and laughter, the gypsies arrived. What only moments ago had been empty space now teemed with color and movement. Fabric swirled and feet pranced in perfect rhythm with the beat of the tambourines. The performers moved through their acts with the smoothness of long practiced routine. The crowd was awed by the man who could lift an anvil over his head and dazzled by the jugglers. The prince laughed at the tumblers as they vaulted through the air doing incredible flips and twists. Jane clapped along with the lively melodies. Each new act seemed to outdo the last. Every one of the gypsies had amazing talents, but by far the best performer of them all was the young boy in blue. He could dance and sing and play every instrument. He could juggle a dozen apples with ease and do back flips from one end of the courtyard to the other. With each step, the bells on the corners of his silly hat rattled merrily, the perfect compliment to his ever smiling face.

As the show ended, the whole troupe came forward and bowed to their audience. After a long applause the crowds slowly exited the courtyard. Many of the courtiers milled around and discussed their favorite parts of the performance. Everything in the castle seemed to be settling back down to its normal quiet routine until the gypsies began to pack up their props.

"No! No! More…more…more!" Prince Cuthbert wailed.

The little boy threw himself to the ground and began pounding his arms and feet, all the while yelling at the top of his lungs. The queen immediately began trying to quiet him, but to no avail. Several of the noble ladies rolled their eyes and whispered to each other how they hoped he would grow out of this faze quickly. Suddenly the boy in blue popped up in front of the royal thrones and pulled several small wooden figurines from his pockets. The prince instantly stopped crying and sat up with interest.

The king clapped his hands and said with glee, "Oh, I love a puppet show! I have not seen one since I was a boy."

The gypsy boy smiled and began his tale about a young prince who rescued a fair damsel from a fire-breathing dragon. Each character in his tale had a unique voice and manner of moving. Jane found herself entranced as she pictured herself doing great adventurous deeds like the prince.

As the story came to its conclusion, the boy looked over at Jane and flashed her a bright smile, his grey eyes sparkling. The royal family and any others fortunate enough to witness his performance clapped enthusiastically. The gypsy's smile grew even wider and he stepped forward in a rather extravagant bow. Unfortunately in his exuberance he did not see Jane's toy dragon where it lay before him. His foot landed directly upon it and started to roll. The boy was thrown forward onto his face, to the amused laughter of the crowd who assumed this was part of his show. The toy however, did not fare as well. It flew backwards and with a sickening crunch became the landing spot of a large box.

Jane let out a gasp and would have run straight into the gypsy created mayhem of crates, barrels, and animals if her mother had not grabbed her around the waist. The boy in blue looked up and watched as her eyes began to fill. Jumping to his feet he zigzagged between the traveling performers until he had found the beloved toy. He picked it up gingerly and carried it back to the little girl with the wide emerald eyes. Upon seeing the toy in its ruined state she burst into tears and buried her head in her mother's skirt.

The young boy touched her gently on the arm and said quietly, "I will fix him for you."

Jane turned her face towards his and said between tearful gasps, "Promise?"

He gulped and nodded, "Gypsy's honor."

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End note: Jane's toy dragon was inspired by a toy dog we used to have.

I was originally planning one more chapter for this story, but I am liking it more and more as a oneshot. hmm... what do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Well, Lightning Flash's thoughts matched my own. So here is the final version of this chapter. I tried to combine my favorite parts from each of the other two...oh and changed the ending slightly. This was done so it would fit better with the third chapter. Yes, that's right a third chapter is in the works and should be up in a day or two.  


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Upon reaching camp, the little gypsy zipped from wagon to wagon like a bright blue horsefly. Finally he landed next to one whose every spare inch was covered with tools, inventions, and spare parts.

"Besnik! Besnik!"

"Ah! The little blue jay has returned." A jovial man with a thick brown beard stepped to the doorframe. "What is it this time? Has one of your bells lost its clapper again?"

With a hearty chuckle the man reached down to pluck off the young boy's hat then playfully tousled his hair. The boy shook his head and held out the broken toy.

"My, my… you certainly did a number on this piece." Upon examining it more closely he gave the boy a questioning look, "I do not remember building _this_ toy."

"It belongs to a girl at the castle. I accidentally broke it and so promised I would fix it for her."

"Then why are you bringing it to me? You said that _you_ would fix it for her," a teasing smile lighting the older man's face.

The boy immediately caught on to the oft' played game and launched into his part wholeheartedly. He threw an arm to his forehead, turned his pleading eyes upward and said in the most pitiable voice he could, "Oh Besnik, I am not skilled in fixing things like you. Please, great master of wood and metal, could you find it in your heart to help this lowly child?"

The handyman laughed warmly, "Of course, my little performer. Come with me."

He led the boy up into the wagon at sat him at the work table. The inside walls were lined with shelves and containers filled with all manner of tools. After a quick search through the cupboards, he pulled out a jar of glue and a brush and set them before the boy along with the broken pieces of the dragon.

"First I want you to piece this creature back together without the glue. That way you will be sure to put each piece where it belongs. Then choose two pieces at a time, paint glue on each one, then hold them together and count to sixty before moving on to the next piece. I am going to take a closer look at this base. The wheels are still in pretty good shape, but they need all new axels."

"Thank you," the boy called as the older man stepped out the door.

The tinkerer walked a short distance from the wagon to sit beneath a nearby oak tree. Reaching into the pouch at his side, he pulled out a small metal tool and began fiddling with the object in his hands. Nearly an hour later he was startled out of his deep concentration by the realization that someone was standing directly over him.

"Besnik, are you half asleep? I called you several times."

He looked up at the slightly plump woman whose arms were wrapped in a brightly colored shawl and sheepishly held up the toy in his hands. "Not asleep, Aminta, just preoccupied."

She chuckled. "I should have known. Have you seen my boy? He did not show up at dinner time, which is quite unlike him." She shook her head merrily; a few wisps of dark hair broke free from her bun and bounced back and forth. "That child surely loves to eat. He might run wild all day long, but when it comes to mealtime he always finds his way home again. I did not find him in the field playing bandyball with the other children and thought he might have come to visit you."

"He is in my wagon gluing together a broken toy."

She headed towards the wagon, but was cut off by the tinkerer.

"Wait just a moment, Aminta. I want to talk to you about the boy. We gypsies have taught him everything we can. He can sing, juggle, joke, and tumble. Why he even knows how to read, something only a few of the other children can do. That boy is something special. He needs more than we can give him." He trailed off, lost in thought.

"What is it Besnik? Do you suppose we could buy a few new books here for him to read? I am certain he would love that."

"No, it was not books I was thinking of giving him, but an opportunity. The entire castle seemed taken with him, especially the royal family. I think the lad could get a position there as a court jester. He would be perfect for the part. It would be a wonderful opportunity for him to continue his education, and perhaps become much more than just another traveling player."

The woman sighed as uncertainty filled her eyes. "I had thought the same thing this afternoon. For weeks his father and I have been talking about finding him a position somewhere, but when it comes right down to it," she let out a sigh, "I am not sure I am quite ready to …to give him up." A few quiet tears slid down her face.

The handyman pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"Hey Besnik, look! I am all done!"

The boy proudly held out the dragon, his smile bright with satisfaction. Glue still dripped from a few pieces, several of which had ended up in the wrong place. The scales that ran down the dragon's back were all slightly askew and spaced at random intervals. There was even an extra piece that the boy had not been able to fit. The carpenter chuckled to himself.

"Ah yes, and a lovely job you did too. I am certain the little girl will be quite pleased. Now if you will leave your treasure with me, I will reattach the wheels and perhaps give him a new coat of paint before you return him tomorrow."

The bells on his hat jingled as the boy ran forward and gave the older man a fierce hug unintentionally smearing glue all across the back of his vest. Then turning to notice his mother he said brightly "Is it time for dinner yet?"

The meal that night was unusually quiet. Something was clearly upsetting both adults at the table, and the little gypsy wanted to do whatever he could to cheer her up. Feeling an uncontrollable need to fill the quiet with some kind of chatter he began to go on and on about the people they had met at the castle. Was not the queen most lovely and kind, and the king so jolly? He imitated the woman in the high collar by puckering up his mouth and acting like he had just smelled something terrible. This performance elicited a smile and a quiet chuckle from his audience so he went on to do imitations of the prince throwing a tantrum. This caused his father to laugh right out loud. On and on he went until all three were holding their sides from laughing so hard. Pleased that he had created a more pleasant atmosphere, the boy began to talk about the little girl with the bright red hair. He thought she looked like a wonderfully fun playmate. When they went to return her toy tomorrow he hoped there would be time to explore the castle with her.

As the lad rose to help clear their small table, his mother said, "You certainly enjoy this place, my dear. What would you think of staying here for a while?"

The boy's eyes opened wide. "Truly? I would love to stay here longer. Is this where the troupe is going to spend the winter?"

"No they are moving on tomorrow afternoon," answered his father.

"Oh… then did you get a job at the castle?"

At his honest questions the tears his mother had been holding back all evening broke loose into quiet sobs. The child immediately turned and wrapped his arms around her wide waist and said quietly, "It is okay. I am sure we will see the gypsies again."

"Oh my dear sweet child," she sat down and held him in front of her. "You know that we would never do something that we did not believe was in your best interest." He nodded solemnly.

"Tomorrow we are going to try to get you a position as the court jester," interjected his father. "You could learn more there than we could ever hope to teach you. You would have the opportunity for a better life, to really make something of yourself. We, however, need to continuing on with the troupe."

The boy's cloudy eyes filled with confusion. "You mean that I would stay here… without you?" The tears slowly slipped down his cheek as understanding came to him. Hi smother pulled him close, comforting him while her own tears fell silently upon his head.

After several minutes of silent mourning, she held him back and said with red-rimmed eyes, "Dear one, as painful as this will be for us all, we are certain it is the right decision. So now, my precious boy, I need you to show that kingdom how brave a gypsy boy can be. No more crying… at least not in front of the king."

He gave a small, sad smile and rubbed the tears from his eyes. "Yeah, who would want a sniveling jester?"

oOo

Early the next morning a lonesome trio trekked slowly towards the castle. The blue-clad boy walked along in the middle, but his stomach kept tying itself into knots until he was certain he would be sick. With eyes full of worry he looked up at the man beside him who was helping to lug along his trunk. It contained all of his belongings: puppets, juggling rocks, books, lute, extra sets of clothes, and even a small suit of armor. The man returned his look with a smile that did not quite reach to his eyes. The woman on the boy's other side reached out and squeezed his hand tightly. In her other arm lay the patched up toy, complete with a new rope and fresh coat of paint.

"Remember," she said for what seemed to be the hundredth time. "Smile as much as you can. Allow your father and me to do the talking. Keep your hat on as much as possible, and above all you must keep your true name a secret. They can call you Jester… that will work, right?"

"We have been over this before, Aminta. Lots of folks go by the name of their profession. I cannot count how many people we have met on our travels who called themselves simply Smith or Baker. The lad will be fine. He has always been able to care for himself."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, save for the occasional sniff as the plump woman wiped a tear from her puffy eyes. As they trudged along, the young boy thought back to the evening before. His mother had come to tuck him in, something she had not done for nearly a year, but he did not have the heart to tell her so. Instead he had asked that she tell him a story.

It was a tale full of excitement and suspense. His favorite part was that the fact that he already knew the ending, for it was always the same. No matter how frightening the situation might seem, he always knew that in the end they would end up safe and sound. Perhaps he had asked for that story again because he was starting out on a new adventure, one to which he did not know the ending. Then again, perhaps he had simply wanted one last nostalgic moment with the dear woman who had always taken care of him.

They arrived just in time for the king's daily audience with his subjects. As they waited at the back of the line for their turn, along bobbed a bright red bunch of curls. The moment Jane caught sight of the lad in the silly hat she let out a squeal and rushed over clapping her hands in joy.

"You are back already! Do you have my dragon?"

After retrieving the toy from from his mother's arms, he gently handed it to the girl who immediately hugged it tightly to her chest. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you, he is just like new. My name is Jane, by the way." Reaching out to grab his hand she said, "Come on. I can show you around."

"Go ahead, little man," encouraged his father quietly. "Just make sure you are back in time to meet with the king."

"I promise," he replied.

Giving his hand a strong tug, Jane took off, pulling the boy behind her. She showed him her favorite climbing trees and the best hiding places. They sneaked into the royal kitchens to swipe a few cookies then sat on the swings in the practice yard to share their spoils.

"Let's play 'rescue the peasant'!" She said with a bright smile. "You can be the peasant captured by a dragon and I will be the knight who comes to save you."

"Girls can not be knights," sneered a voice nearby. A boy dressed in a fine tunic with an ermine collar strolled up to them.

"You see this?" He held out a shiny new shield. "My father gave it to me just today. He bought it from a real live knight. Apparently the fool ran out of money before he paid the tavern owner. The boys in town and I are going to play knights, but you can not play because _you_ are a _girl_." With that he pranced off, laughing meanly to himself.

Turning to the boy in blue, she crossed her arms, "Well, I am tired of being the damsel in distress. I have to just stand there and wait for someone to rescue me. It's no fun. I want a turn to do the exciting stuff."

Seeing his amused smile, she yanked on his sleeve until he lowered his head down so she could whisper in his ear, "Someday I am going to be the greatest knight in the whole world!"

"Why was that boy so upset?"

"He thinks he is something special because his dad is so rich and he can get anything he wants. He was mad because he was wrong and I was right."

"Right about what?"

"Well, yesterday he said that you were never going to return my dragon because you are a gypsy and gypsies steal. When I told him that you had given me your word, he told me that his father says that the word of a gypsy is worth less than dirt, but I _knew_ that you would come back. Here you are, so I was _right_!" With a self-satisfied grin, she pulled herself up a little taller.

Like a bold of lightening, the boy suddenly remembered. "Oh no…my audience with the king!"

"I can show you the back way into the throne room." Jane piped up cheerfully, then led him, in what she believed to be a stealthy manner, to the king. They arrived just as the gypsy's parents were announced. The king immediately recognized the boy in the floppy hat from his puppet show the day before. After listening to the pair's request, he happily agreed to take the boy into his service and in return would provide food and lodging along with free access to the castle's library.

Turning to the lad, the king asked, "What is your name, my boy?"

"Just call me Jester," he answered with a hesitant smile.

"Ah yes, Jester. A fitting name it is, too."

As the trio turned to leave, Jane rushed out of the shadows to meet them.

"You are going to stay here with me?" She asked incredulously. At his nod, she threw her arms around his waist and said, "This is the best day of my whole entire life!"

The rest of that day would always be a blur in Jester's mind. He could vaguely recall his parents helping him move into the tower, then their final goodbyes. The one thing he remembered most clearly was the look on his mother's face just before she turned to walk back to the gypsy camp. It had been a strange mix of worry, sadness, and hope. Her last words had been a promise to one day return to see him. A promise he would cling to long after they were gone.

He had stood at the castle gate, watching until he could no longer see them. Then he had run to the top of the wall and continued there all afternoon while the gypsy caravan rode off into the hills. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks as he watched them go. Just as the last wagon slipped out of view a small hand slipped into his. Furiously rubbing the tears from his eyes, he looked down on a mass of fiery curls. Her wide green eyes turned upward to meet his.

"Mother thought you might be hungry and sent me to come get you." At the mention of food, Jester's stomach growled ravenously, reminding him that he had not eaten since breakfast. He willling followed his young guide to the royal dining room where he was given morsels off the king's own plate. Later he was informed that this was one of his new duties which served as a precaution to protect the king from being poisoned.

Before long, one of the courtiers called out for entertainment. Taking his cue; the gypsy jumped to the center of the room and began juggling, telling jokes, and executing perfect cartwheels. In performing, the jester found he was able to push aside his own troubles for awhile and focus on what he loved doing the most, making others happy. With each clap and cheer his smile grew just a little brighter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: As promised, here is chapter 3.  
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**All characters are property of Martin Baynton. sigh

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Within a few weeks the boy jester and young lady-in-waiting were inseparable. Some days they roamed the hills and valleys surrounding the castle. Only to return late in the afternoon, pockets brimming with juicy, red strawberries. Other days they spent in the castle library. There, the performer shared his love of reading with the little red-head. Though she knew how to read herself, Jane often begged her companion to read aloud. She especially loved hearing the stories of great heroic victories from battles long past. Most often, though, the pair would sit atop the wall and watch as the knights practiced below. The two friends would then run through the garden pretending to be knights themselves. Wooden play swords held aloft, they would ruthlessly battle side by side against the shadow enemies until Jane's mother would inevitably come to quiet their noisy victory cries.

One hot afternoon as they sat lazily in the shade of the cherry tree, Jester pulled out his lute and began to play. Jane idly plucked blades of grass and held them tightly between her thumbs. Puffing out her cheeks, she blew hard attempting to make the piece of grass squeak like Jester had shown her yesterday. Finally giving up, she tilted her head to look sideways at the blue-clad musician.

"What song is that?"

"The court is tired of all the old ballads so the King has ordered me to write him a new one. Only …" the boy bit his lower lip nervously, "I have never written a song before."

"Ooh! I can help!" Jane cried excitedly.

By the time of the evening meal the ballad was finished. For the first time in ages, Jester found he was nervous about performing. Anxiously his grey eyes scanned the tables until he had spotted his little friend. Her bright smile was all the encouragement he needed. With gusto the boy turned to the king and performed the song they had written, a silly little ditty about a cheerful blue jay building its nest. The catchy tune and playful lyrics made it an instant favorite. Within days children in town could be heard singing it as they went about their chores. The young musician would write many more ballads for the king in years to come, but none would ever be as special to him as this first one.

oOo

One night about a month later, having performed until his muscles ached, Jester moved to sit in a corner by the fireplace. The way the flames danced and crackled reminded him of the many bonfires he had experienced with the gypsies. With a start he realized it had been nearly a week since he had even thought of his parents. Heaving a sigh, the boy gave way to the thought that it might be years before he saw any of the gypsies again. Refusing to allow the tears that threatened at his eyes, he fixed his mind on happier things. When they returned, as his mother had promised, Jester wanted his parents to be proud of him. His jaw clinched determinedly as he resolved to work and study as hard as possible that they would see that their decision had been the right one.

Slowly his eyes began to wander over the many faces in the great hall. They had all become familiar to him. He knew just how to pull a smile out of even the sternest old soldier. As his gaze continued around the room, the boy suddenly realized that this place was beginning to feel like home. The thought had come upon him so gradually that it quite surprised him. How could this be home?

A sudden flurry of activity pulled Jester out of his thoughts. One of the ladies-in-waiting had come to take Jane to bed. The girl ran first to give her mother and father a kiss. She then turned to Jester, but instead of wishing him goodnight as was her custom, she gave him a kiss on the cheek as well. The boy immediately scrunched up his nose and attempted to rub the kiss off his face. The entire court burst into laughter at his embarrassment as the little girl was hurried off to her room by a scolding maid. Once the excitement had died down, Jester smiled to himself and realized that while he would never completely forget his family, it was moments like these that made him feel this was indeed home.

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**End Note: Hopefully this ending is a little less melancholy than the original one. Oh and bonus points if you spot the reference to my other fic "The Blacksmith's Girl". (It's pretty well hidden!)**


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